


Tatters

by conceptofzero



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-09
Updated: 2011-08-09
Packaged: 2017-10-22 10:38:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conceptofzero/pseuds/conceptofzero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stitch is too old for relationships. He's not too old for fucking his enemies, even if it's a stupendously stupid idea. But he's always had a weakness for hitmen with flat eyes and bosses that would slit his throat in a heartbeat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tatters

Stitch is too old for relationships. He doesn't have the time or patience to deal with anniversaries and fights, with partners who fall in love too fast and stand outside your window at three in the afternoon, screaming to the neighbours about how Stitch is the worst boyfriend he's ever had, with uncomfortable awkward sex as they try to figure out what each other wants. Stitch has a job to do, and what little time he's got free can't be spent nursing someone's bruised ego because he forgot their birthday.

He's not too old for fucking his enemies, even if it's a stupendously stupid idea. But he's always had a weakness for hitmen with flat eyes and bosses that would slit his throat in a heartbeat. He's also been weak for sharp dressers, and you could cut yourself on Droog's fashion sense.

It's easier to get Droog into the Felt Mansion than it is for Stitch to get into his hideout. For one, nobody bothers Stitch, not when he's got access to everyone effigies and all he needs it a pair of scissors to make life very uncomfortable. And secondly, the Felt doesn't have Slick, just Crowbar, who'll throw Droog out and give Stitch a dressing down rather than skipping straight to stabbing. The last, but most important, advantage is that Stitch's room is ground-floor so Droog can just crawl in through the window, though he tends to bitch about having to wade through English's rose bushes to get there.

Droog likes his high-quality clothes and the thought of destroying them always gets Droog's temper up. The silk tie clutched in Stitch's fist is whisper fine, and Droog's eyes keep widening with concern when Stitch tugs on it, as if he's going to rip it. But Stitch knows fabric the way he knows people's insides, and he pulls just hard enough to keep Droog's attention, not enough to ruin it. Still, Droog sneers, "If you rip it-"

"I'll make you a new one," Stitch tells him, pulling on the tie just a little harder. There's the quiet sound of stitches straining, and Droog's eyes widen further. Though that could also be from the hand in Droog's lap, Stitch's palm pressing down against Droog's hard cock. Might be from both. Stitch pulls, and as the stitches slowly rip, he feels Droog's cock twitch against the heel of his hand, "Make you a whole new outfit."

"Fuck-" That more than anything gets a reaction from Droog, his hips shoving back against Stitch's hand. Stitch lets go of the tie and Droog falls back on Stitch's bed, looking infinitely fuckable. He props himself up on his elbows, just waiting for Stitch to make a move. Droog couldn't be any more out of place in this room with his black clothes and black body, "I'll need to wear something when I leave."

"I've got some spare clothes in the closet," Stitch pulls off his green jacket and dumps it on the floor, but not before getting the little stitch ripper out of his pocket. He kneels on the bed, ignoring the way his knees ache a little. Stitch doesn't put his hand back on Droog's dick, instead, settling it on his chest to push him down onto the bed. He slides the sharp little hook between the shirt and the button, making sure it's snug against the thread. Droog's breath catches in his chest, and the noise he makes when Stitch rips the button off is somewhere caught between fury and arousal, "You can have them while I'm fixing these."

He slide his hand down to the next one, and Droog's hands grab onto Stitch's arms, fingers digging deep into the flesh, "You will fix this when we're done," His voice brokers no argument, "Not in a week. Not in a few days. When we're done."

Stitch answers with another snapped button and Droog's fingers feel like they're going to rip through Stitch's shirt. But he doesn't stop Stitch from making his way down, revealing Droog's smooth black chest one ripped-out button at a time. But the time he reaches the last one, the tent in Droog's pants is impossible to ignore. Stitch pops the button, and heads down to the top of the pants, doing the same there. Droog's erection slips out the moment the fabric has nothing holding it in place, the head shiny with pre-cum.

He slides his thumb over the head of Droog's cock and rubs the wetness down his length. Droog watches with those flinty eyes as Stitch finally, slowly wraps his hand around Droog's cock and strokes it. It's a weird fucking thing, no foreskin at all, and ridges along the base of the cock, and so smooth that there's almost no friction as he fists it. He says what he's thinking outloud, "You're such a weird fucking thing."

"Big words coming from something as fleshy as you," Droog's own fingers finally begin to work on Stitch's shirt, deftly undoing buttons even as Stitch jerks him off. He reveals a roadmap of scars criss-crossing Stitch's green chest and cranes his head up, biting down on one of the thick ropes of scar tissue.

Stitch hisses and nudges his thumb over Droog's cock, "Mind the teeth, junior," Droog just bites Stitch again, hard enough to draw blood, and Stitch squeezes until Droog lets go. There's a little blood on his teeth, flecks of red in Droog's sly smile, and it hits Stitch hard in his hindbrain. Goddamn his weakness for gangsters.

Stitch lets go of Droog's cock and get his hands on his pants, yanking on them until he gets them out from under Droog's ass and off of him, throwing them on the floor. Droog's eye twitches as his clothes are manhandled, but it doesn't make him any less hard. Stitch leaves Droog's shirt on and open, enjoying the contrast of white and black on his green bedspread. He gets his hand on his belt while Droog helps out, and they get his clothes off, paying no mind to where they land.

Stitch's got bum knees and they ache when he kneels on the bed overtop of Droog, but he pushes that aside, focusing instead on the naked man lying underneath him. He presses his mouth against Droog's, and gets a bite in return, Droog grabbing onto Stitch's lower lip with his teeth. Their hips rub against one another, and he wraps a hand around both their cocks, sliding them against one another. The ridges feel so fucking good rubbing up against the surface of his dick, exactly the amount of friction he's been wanting since he and Droog started, "Ah- lord almighty," He growls out, "God, your cock feels good."

"Of course it does, it's mine," Droog wraps a hand around the back of Stitch's neck, holding him steady as he start to thurst up against Stitch. Their cocks rock against each other, pressing tight between their bellies as Droog moves. Stitch just keeps his legs as steady as he can, knuckles rubbing against Droog's stomach with each rough stroke. He can see the heat gathering under Droog's face, turning his carapace a lighter shade of black. Stitch knows he's probably looking the same, heart pounding as each thrust up gets him closer and closer.

He knows Droog's going to come because his face starts to waiver and his eyes get all squinty. Stitch pulls back a bit, just enough to rest his weight on Droog's thighs and stroke him hard, and to direct him. Droog digs his shoulders into the bed when he comes, spurting white strands over both their stomachs. Some of it lands on Droog's shirt, making him moan with that mix of emotions. Stitch's hand is sticky when it comes away, and he slicks up his cock with it, "Those stains ain't coming out."

Droog glares up at Stitch, white eyes half-closed, still punchy from coming. Stitch pushes Droog's hips up, getting his legs hooked over Stitch's shoulders. It's so easy to line his cock up with Droog's ass, to press the head of his cock against Droog's entrance and prod, just to watch Droog react to it. He bares his teeth, "Don't waste my time, old man. Either do it or don't."

He prods again, just to feel how tight Droog is around the head of Stitch's cock, but the hissing sound is a warning this time, and he pushes all the way in. It's fairly easy going when he's this slick and when Droog's in this position, just ready and willing to have Stitch sink into him. Droog feels fucking great, tight and hot and all but begging for it. Stitch takes a moment to adjust before getting down to business. There's nothing tentative or shy about this as Stitch starts to fuck Droog, picking his own pace and his own angle and running with it.

It's good this way, good because it feels good, good because he can watch Droog too. Droog keeps a tight rein on his facial features, even while being fucked, and it takes practice to know the difference between indifference and interest, or okay sex and great sex. It's in the way Droog's lip curls with each thrust, how his face is slightly flushed and how it becomes more glossy as they fuck. Stitch keeps rocking into Droog at a steady pace, skin slapping against carapace and making such a strange sound. The legs rub against either shoulder, and Droog digs his hands into the bed as Stitch gives him what he came here for. He keeps baring those sharp little teeth of his every time his lip draws back and Stitch just pushes in deeper.

There's a crashing sound from outside and they both go still, listening to hear exactly what the sound is. Just because the Felt won't kill Droog (probably won't, he reminds himself) doesn't mean it won't end unpleasantly if they're caught fucking. There are plenty of nasty non-lethal things that every Felt member is capable of, with and without their time powers. The sound comes again, followed by the distant sound of ringing. Eggs and Biscuits, since the two are never far apart, fighting with who knows. They both relax, glad that they're not about to have someone burst in on them.

Droog stares up at Stitch, eyes sliding over the scars. He's never asked how Stitch got them, but he's fascinated all the same by the thick scar tissue and the way it runs across Stitch's chest and back, trailing off at his arms and face, and around the edges of his hips. Droog reaches up briefly, rubbing his fingers overtop the thick patch in the centre of Stitch's chest before dropping them back onto the bed. Stitch grins as he begins to thrust, getting back up to speed, "Like 'em?"

"Thinking about leaving a few of my own. Just a little something to remember me by," Droog's half-hard again, dick twitching between them as Stitch begins to nudge up against Droog's prostate. He can't tell what's getting him hotter, being fucked, or thinking about leaving another mark on Stitch's skin. Truth is, Stitch isn't entire opposed to another couple of scars, but this isn't the first time he's fucked a psychopath, and there's no way in hell Stitch is changing his habits after all this time

"Let me give you something to remember," Stitch reaches up, grabbing onto the fabric of Droog's open shirt, and tugging hard enough to get a tearing sound. Droog's cocks hardens nearly instantly, bobbing against Droog's belly with every steady thrust from Stitch. Stitch grits his teeth as he tries to get a hold of himself, but it's damn near impossible when he's buried inside of Droog, who's all too happy to be fucked as rough as Stitch wants it.

Stitch goes in about as deep as he can stand, breathing quickly through his nose as he tries to stay focused. Droog rolls his shoulders again as he tries to fuck himself on Stitch, just revealing expanses of dark skin that needs to be marked. Stitch leans in and presses his teeth overtop of Droog's neck, digging them in just enough to be a reminder. Droog moans and Stitch feels the vibrations roll through his throat, and that's all he can take. His hips slam into Droog a few more times as he comes, filling Droog with it

He pulls out, cock still wet but now streaked with his own cum. Droog wraps a hand around his dick and strokes it, 'uh'ing a little as he does. Stitch is tired and his knees are aching like a bitch, but he still manages to find a way to help out, grabbing onto the tie still hanging around Droog's neck and pulling it tight. Droog's mouth falls silently open and he strokes himself faster as the silk tightens and tightens, the faintest ripping sound stating as it reaches it's breaking point. He can't be that far from coming, not when he's still got the glow from the last orgasm in his face.

The tie tears, and Droog moans again, breathing in a bit too quickly. Part of the tie ends up in Stitch's hand and he knocks Droog's off of his cock, rolling it up in the silk and then stroking it with it. That's it. That's all it takes. Just a few strokes from the silken fabric and he comes into Stitch's fist, mouth open silently as another set of the white stuff ends up on both of them, but mostly on Droog. His shirt is a wreck, and the white cum lying in splatters against Droog's black belly is something Stitch never gets tired of.

Stitch finally lets himself rest beside Droog, the post-orgasm glow doing a lot to help him ignore the aching in his body and bones. Droog stays sprawled on the bed, looking like he's been ravished, even if those flat eyes tell a far different story. They don't talk in the afterglow, just soaking in each other's silent company.

It doesn't last. There's a knock at the door, followed by Crowbar's voice, "Stitch, you busy? We need you to patch up Die."

Stitch doesn't want take care of Die, he wants to stay here and bask. But he's got a job to do and he heaves himself up, grabbing onto a nearby towel and cleaning himself off, "Give me a minute."

"Alright, but only a minute. He's bleeding like a stuck pig," Crowbar heads off and Stitch quickly dresses, heading to the closet and opening it up. Stitch grabs hold of the box sitting up in the top corner, labelled bobbins and pulls it down, carrying it over to the bed and setting it beside Droog.

Droog tiredly raises himself up, knocking the lid off the box. His disinterest disappears the moment he sees what's inside and he sits up straight, carefully pulling out the double-breasted vest. Droog's fingers run across the fine seams and tiny pearl buttons, his eyes hungrily raking across the cream-coloured lining. Stitch would love to stay and watch Droog go over the rest of the clothes, but if Crowbar says Die's bleeding out, he probably is.

Still, he spares a moment to quickly kiss Droog, getting more lip than teeth for one in an age. He pulls back, keeping his voice pitched low, "Enjoy the new threads."

"Hm," Droog smiles his sly little smile, and Stitch leaves before Droog can distract him any further.

Crowbar's waiting in the hall when Stitch comes out, and he leads the way to the boutique, "Were you sleeping or something?"

"Or something," Stitch confirms and hurries after Crowbar, the aches in his knees blotting out the last of the afterglow. It's fine. There will be other times, especially now that Droog's seen just how generous Stitch can be when he's feeling pleased.


End file.
